


something jolly this way comes

by tinysmallest



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Gen, alternate universe - inkborne au, henry ross - Freeform, inkborne au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 13:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18638716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinysmallest/pseuds/tinysmallest
Summary: Bendy’s just discovered Christmas is a thing, and he wants to celebrate.Problem: He was told about Santa Claus, and believes the man exists.Worse problem: The present he wants from Santa is something Henry can’t fabricate for him.How to make the little devil feel that Christmas magic, now…?





	something jolly this way comes

**Author's Note:**

> Inkborne au, created by deviantART user twisted-wind (and her twitter handle is FlappyBat). I wrote another thing a long time ago for her au so it's banking off the same continuity as my work Choices.
> 
> Originally I wasn't going to upload this here because I thought it was too silly, but rereading it again it's cute enough, so why not?

Henry was discovering things about his accidental new children in leaps and bounds now that they weren’t constantly wary of their lives being taken from them.

Boris was a calm, gentle giant; with a tendency to refer to things with canine terminology (children were ‘pups,’ towns and all families but his own were ‘packs’– ‘family’ was a term for his and his alone) and a penchant for just taking life one day at a time, growing and discovering at his own pace. He was one to appreciate life in all its forms, complex and simple, and had a fair amount of maturity to him… but not so much that he failed to be any fun. His favorite sport was sassing his best friend.

Alice’s maturity was sharper, wearier; she lacked patience for things she could not understand and, though as responsible and forgiving as Boris, she was far more cynical in general about the intentions of others. It wasn’t as if she were no fun at all, but she carried a quiet edge from her own tragedies.

Maybe Henry was just so good at seeing it because he recognized the harrowed look of a young person who grew into a leader far too soon, knew what it felt like to have too much weight on small shoulders. Seeing her crack a smile was rewarding enough to sustain good feelings for a while day; getting her to leave her shell to laugh and shoot the breeze or maybe even engage in some playful behavior could sustain the family for a week.

Henry was quite sure: however silly both Alice and Boris could sometimes be, they seemed very firmly rooted in young adulthood, late teens, maybe.

The nature of Bendy’s age, however, was… strange.

It seemed like, very often, the demon had been brought to life with the mental and emotional maturity of someone in his later teens, like the other two; besides being jaded to hell and back and demonstrating the reasoning capabilities and understanding of a teenager, Bendy consumed and processed information about the world he’d been denied at a pace far too rapid for any child to manage.

But there were plenty of other times that contradicted that. There was his incessant need to touch what confused or fascinated him, regardless however bad an idea that was for him to actually do, his tendency to taste things that he figured ought to be edible (and weren’t always), to say nothing of how petulant Bendy could be when provoked or when just in a bad mood. That could have been written off as the simple quirks of a demon struggling to learn about the new world around him.

But then there were times he was given to examining, understanding, and believing things about the world in such a way that was positively child-like in its wide-eyed innocence, like how he felt the need to show Henry every frog he managed to catch along the banks of the lake of their farm, or how he collected pretty rocks from each new place they visited, or how he was taken to automatically believing anything about the world told to him by random shmoes in the street, provided that the people providing the information didn’t seem malicious.

Case in point… Santa Claus.

Henry couldn’t remember the last time he celebrated Christmas. With no family and fewer friends, the man didn’t exactly spend much time on his farm. Really, the place was only there as a sort of home base between jobs; someplace to store his stuff and occasionally sleep. He used it so infrequently that bringing his new kids home had required a solid week of work around the place to make it habitable around the clock.

Henry was fine living in a mess and occasionally slapping hasty repair jobs that were little more than bandaids over problems that needed much more proactive solutions. But he wasn’t about to make three young people who had spent their entire lives trapped in one kind of hellhole after another live in this kind of environment.

So new and strange was everything that Henry had completely forgotten about holidays. The mundane was enough work to muddle through, and having not paid attention to Christmas in many years, he failed to notice its approach.

The best thing about the nearby town was, by far, its utter lack of caring about their new supernatural neighbors. Sure, some were less than thrilled, but on the whole the town figured that if they were living with a demon hunter, then all of them, demon included, must be safe.

It was one of these townspeople Henry had to thank for Bendy bursting into the house at supper time with all the force of a hurricane, so excited that he didn’t even bother shedding his winter coat as he bounced around Henry’s ankles, insisting they needed to get a move on.

Because Christmas was in ten days, and the house had to be acceptable for Santa.

What followed was probably the most hectic week of Henry’s life, discounting his time spent chasing down some eldritch abomination, and frankly, that was still saying a lot, considering that even when he didn’t have a dangerous thing he had to kill, his life could still get pretty crazy. But he couldn’t pretend it also wasn’t enjoyable. The evergreen he and Boris chopped down and hauled into their living room added a lot of charm to their home, not to mention it smelled nice. Decorating it turned out to be much more fun than he’d anticipated; sitting by the fire with the other three and stringing popcorn to decorate the tree with was a soothing, relaxing venture broken only by the occasional fights to get Bendy to stop eating the damn stuff, which usually turned into throwing popcorn at each other.

They probably all ate more popcorn then they actually put on string, but thankfully, Henry had made a lot of popcorn.

Stringing the popcorn and the Christmas lights _on_ the tree was an entirely separate adventure. After a lot of troubleshooting to make sure the electrical lights even still worked, Henry had to untangle Alice twice, Boris five or six times, Bendy no less than ten, and while he’d only needed to be untangled once, it took the three supernaturals twenty minutes to get that nightmare sorted out.

It was worth it for the finale. Holding Bendy up to put the tree topper on probably ranked within Henry’s top ten favorite moments in his life; the little demon lit up brighter than all the lights in the entire nearby town when he was chosen to have that honor this year, and that look remained as he placed the little star on the tree with probably more hesitant care then he’d ever employed in his entire life.

With the decorations done, they moved on to planning the food next. That mostly fell on Henry, but Alice was able to lend a hand, too. As it turned out, for those many years she stood as a leader in the citadel, tending to the survivors and protecting him, they had actually managed to celebrate Christmas. Very scant Christmases, with barely enough food, but the holiday had been acknowledged and those who had celebrated it before had educated her on what it was supposed to be like.

Gathering the ingredients they’d need for their special day was easy. Roast turkey, roast duck, mashed potatoes. Green beans. The look on Bendy and Alice’s face at all the ingredients for their Christmas Day meal was painful; Alice stared with a quiet shock and Bendy wouldn’t stop babbling in sheer excitement.

The fact that Boris had nothing to say because he hadn’t been dealing with food shortages for fifteen years due to being _dead_ was not much better.

He’d already been sure he was going to make this holiday the most amazing thing they’d ever seen in their lives, but now he was doubly sure. This would be the best day of their lives, bar none. God knew they deserved it.

Part of that would be the presents.

This brought them back to Santa.

Bendy chattered on and on about how he couldn’t wait for the magic human to come with gifts for them. It was kind of amazing; Henry would have guessed that Bendy would find the concept more creepy then delightful. The myth was about a stranger breaking into homes, after all, and it wasn’t like Bendy was very receptive to the idea of people invading his privacy.

But then again, it wasn’t like Bendy had gotten much time to just… be innocent. To believe in childish fairy tales. Any magic life might have held for him was sucked out pretty quickly. He wasn’t sure if he should let Bendy believe this next year but… what was the harm in letting the demon have a single Christmas where he genuinely believed a magic man in a red suit was going to leave him presents?

Henry panicked a little when Boris asked Bendy why Santa had never visited them before, but the little demon just looked at Boris with a raised eyebrow. “Because his magic wasn’t strong enough to get ‘im through that shithole, duh.”

Well… he couldn’t fault him for that logic. It kind of made sense, in a weird way.

And so everyone wrote letters to Santa, which Henry ‘delivered’ to town for them. Boris’s was a long letter about being grateful for his family and that being enough but if it wasn’t too much trouble, if Santa could bring him a trumpet. Alice’s was a very formal read, and it was obvious she didn’t believe she was actually writing to Santa, but she was willing to give it a try. The books she wanted wouldn’t be so hard to get, either.

Then it was time to read Bendy’s letter. Chuckling to himself as he opened the envelope, Henry tried to guess at what he might’ve asked for. A net, he decided; Bendy probably asked for a net. He’d been trying and failing for weeks to catch the flying insects around the farm.

_At first I was going to ask for a bike._

Ah shoot; wrong guess- wow, his manner of writing was much more refined then how he talked. Did Joey teach him how to read and write?

Hell, even his handwriting was actually kind of… pretty? Delicate? Did Bendy even write this? Maybe he dictated to one of the others?

No, he’d seen Boris’s writing. Downright chicken scratch. And this wasn’t Alice’s handwriting, either. Huh.

_But then I realized something I want more. I don’t need to ask for safety, or anything like that. Henry’s got it covered. I don’t need to ask for a lot of things, because Henry’s got it covered._

Fucking hell. This kid seriously trusted him. Swallowing was just a bit more difficult.

_So it makes sense to ask for something he can’t give me, right? You’re magic, so what I want for Christmas is this._

_Get rid of the branding._

His stomach fell.

_My creator branded me at one point, to hammer it in that I was his property. He left a lot of scars and it was hard to choose between the branding and the scars on my wrists, but the branding has his actual name on it and I want it off. I don’t want to ever worry about someone seeing it again. He doesn’t own me. He doesn’t own me. His name doesn’t belong on my body._

_I don’t care if I get nothing else this year. Just get this thing off me._

He just had to ask for the one thing Henry couldn’t do for him.

 _Property of Joey Drew._ He remembered that brand; it was burned into his memory forever. And into Bendy’s back, near his left shoulderblade. It was one of the many reasons he wished Joey was still alive; every time he was reminded it was there it made him want to throttle the man all over again. “So I’d never forget who I belonged ta,” Bendy mumbled as an explanation once. He didn’t speak on it again, and neither did Henry. That topic was too painful to touch. For Bendy to acknowledge it at all, especially to a stranger he fully believed existed…

He really, _really_ wanted this.

What was he going to do about it?

The days passed far too quickly. Boris and Alice’s gifts were, at least, easy to acquire. Just as well because the amount of stress he felt over Bendy’s was unbearable. He got the bike—he may as well, since it was mentioned—but what could he do about the rest?

He couldn’t let him down. He couldn’t.

Christmas Eve came. It was a pleasant dinner, a little pre-celebration before the day tomorrow. When the others went to bed, Henry took out paper and pen. Clearly, he was going to have to write something. But what? Some kind of apology? What the hell could he even say that wouldn’t be horribly half-baked?

Ugh. He needed to clear his head. With a grumble, he set down the pen and left his room.

The Christmas lights cast the living room in a soft red glow. Combined with the ornaments and the soft peacefulness of night, Henry had to admit- it was very charming. He didn’t bother to ask himself why he’d ever stopped doing this; he knew the answer to that already.

It was lucky, though, that he had a reason to take up this tradition again.

A snore interrupted his thoughts and he blinked, looking down. What in the world?

Crouching a bit, he squinted under the tree and then grinned. Curled up on his side like a little kid was Bendy, wrapped up in a blanket. No pillow. He must have counted on getting chilly, but not on falling asleep. The scamp probably wanted to catch Santa in the act.

Unfortunately for Bendy, the demon could and would pass out anywhere if he was tired enough.

“Hnnn… whu?” Whoops. It looked like Henry’s soft chuckle had woken him. Before he could move back and slip out unnoticed, large, dark eyes opened and fixed on him, sleepy and confused. “Henry?”

“Just me, bud. What’s up?”

Bendy yawned. “Waitin’ for Santa. Wanted ta see him. Thought-d” he paused, rubbing an eye and looking much more awake now, suddenly. “Thought his present might be easier delivered if I was up.”

Ah.

“Why’s that?”

Bendy frowned. “I can’t tell ya. Cause- then it won’t come true?”

“That’s birthday wishes, Ben.”

“… Well still.”

“Maybe you should go to bed? Sleeping on the floor can’t be comfortable.”

Now he looked even more awake. That was… the exact opposite of what he’d wanted, fantastic. “Nah. I gotta be here. It’s- important.”

“If I can’t ask what it is, can I ask why?”

Another frown, this one more contemplative. “… It means a lot ta me. Feel like it’ll help me feel better about- things.”

“Things like…?”

“… Well…” He glanced away. “Stuff Joey did. Things he said.”

“So I’d never forget who I belonged ta.” Piss off, Joey.

“You need to talk about it…?”

He shook his head and forced a bit of a wobbly smile. “Nah. It’s fine. ‘Sides, Christmas is supposed to be about happy, right? I’ll just- lay down here and wait.”

“Okay. I’ll… go back to my room then. See you in the morning?”

“See ya in the mornin’.” He laid back down and stretched with a yawn, staring up into the tree from underneath it.

Henry returned to his room. He knew what to write.

* * *

The branding was still there.

Christmas morning, the branding was still there. Even after trying to go back to sleep for a couple of minutes and checking upon waking again. It was still there.

There were a few packages in the room. He’d been here. But the brand was still there. Lead settled into his gut.

He smiled his way through the morning, opening the bike, pretending to be excited. He could feel the worried eyes of the other two on him; they knew him well enough. They knew he was pretending. He was about to turn around to attempt to turn up the act to eleven in order to convince them when he spotted the white envelope among the wrapping paper. The hell was this?

Pulling it free, he slit it open with a claw and extracted the letter from inside.

_Bendy,_

_I’m sorry. Truly, truly sorry. I know how deeply you wanted this; I felt its ache all the way from the North Pole. But I regret to say my magic can’t do that. It’s not anything my magic was designed to do._

_That doesn’t mean I don’t have anything to say, though._

_You’ve suffered a lot. The world hasn’t been kind to you. You’ve got a lot of scars, both the kind that are visible on skin, and the kind visible in the way you live your life, how you react to certain things, how your_

_It’s a gross cruelty that he branded you like that, but here’s something he failed to consider. You are, in fact, a person. Not a tool, nor a toy. A person. You cannot be owned, cannot be defined by him. You will grow and change and become more than he ever was, far out of his reach. You are and will be more than he imagined for you. You will spit in his eye and move on with your life instead of succumbing to it. I have felt your strength, your sense of justice. It is a fire he could never extinguish. You love deeply and fiercely, and you will live on long after he has gone. The legacies you leave will outlive his._

_You belong only to yourself. And you have proved this._

_PS: I do hope you enjoy the bike. I had to finagle it a bit to be your size._

_-Santa Claus_

“Bendy you’re-!”

He looked up from the letter, aware suddenly that his cheeks were wet. Boris and Alice watched him, eyes wide with worry. One set of eyes, however, were not worried.

A lightbulb went off.

Setting the letter down, Henry let out an oof of surprise as he suddenly ended up with a lapfull of demon and arms thrown around his neck.

“Bendy what-” Alice started

“Santa was nice this year,” he mumbled into Henry’s shoulder. His grip tightened. “R-real nice.”

The hunter returned the hug as Boris and Alice shared a look of dawning understanding. “… I’m glad to hear that, bud.”

It was going to be just as he promised. The best day of their lives.

And every day after that, too. As best as he could. Somehow… he was sure that would be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> (The original ending notes from what I posted to tumblr.)
> 
> I’m assuming that like, the Inkborne au story derives more from Bendy and the Ink Machine (or specifically, what we’re all hoping from that game’s ending) rather than Bloodborne because I looked it up and Bloodborne’s endings are… weird. And involve deities and stuff.
> 
> To avoid any further spoilers about Bloodborne, I’ll just say that I really wanted to enjoy a story about a demon hunter who Didn’t Sign Up For This Shit, Exactly and his unconventional son, and their misadventures in trying to escape an inky death hellscape, in which said demon hunter ends up with two more kids and eventually manages to fix the problem, escape with his new kids, and figure out life from there. And so that’s what I wrote about here. Let the family live pls.
> 
> I tried to be period-accurate most of the time in this. Was shocked to find that electric lighting and Christmas tree lights were in fact used in the Victorian era (1837-1901). In fact, everything in this is accurate to the era in which Inkborne is set, I think. Kinda pleased with myself.


End file.
